


take him (and cut him out in little stars)

by Alara16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Arranged Marriage, Asexual Character, Child Death, Codependency, Dark, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, Miscarriage, Multi, Obsessive Behavior, Parent-Child Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Unhealthy Relationships, and then worse, mentions of sibling incest, please read the tags, this is going to get ugly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alara16/pseuds/Alara16
Summary: When Bellatrix Black arrived into the world, she didn’t do it alone. No one could deny though, that there was something very odd about Archie Black.Arcturus Black is a good man, wanting to do the right thing. Save his family, protect his friends, see the Dark Lord dead; but the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and not all heroes are meant to shine in the light. Good thing Archie is willing to dance to the devil’s tune… even when one of the devils is his own twin sister.(Or: that semi-SI/OC fic, where a man gets reincarnated in the body of a toddler in the world of Harry Potter, but that doesn't mean he remembers)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to concentrate in Cry Wolf, I really did. But my friend nagged at me about Harry Potter, which I haven't thought about for some time, and I got sucked back into the fandom almost instantly.  
> This, my dear readers, is the result.
> 
> EDIT 01/04/2018:  
> I was reading all my posted works both in here and in fanfiction.net, to see what I would need to revise when I stumbled on this and thought to myself: no. Just no.  
> And so I scrapped everything and started over. To old readers (if there are any), you will want to read chapter one again before going to the second.

 

**Part I – Beginning**

 

_"It takes two to tangle."_

_\- Unknown_

 

* * *

This is how it happens, without rhyme or reason.

* * *

 

I.

He doesn't know anything at first.

He is bodiless, shapeless, thoughtless... at first.

There is no fear. No pain, no panic or confusion or any other of these ugly, cumbersome emotions that once hung off him like iron shackles around his wrists. There is only the nothingness he floats in, this absence of self that is most freeing.

There are no burdens.

... But there's nothing else either.

(Until there is)

* * *

 

II.

It is beautiful, this light.

Perhaps not the brightest, or the biggest, or even the warmest, but it's enchanting, the way it burns so hard and fast as if it could not bear to stay still, as though it would _die_ if it stopped.

This cold, hard light, that might not be a light at all but a shade of one captures his attention in a way none of the others do. It floats towards him, dauntless in its audacity when all the others had moved away on his approach, skittish.

It stops right in front of him as if to say _what are you gonna do about it?_

He is instantly charmed.

* * *

 

III.

He has no sense of time, so he couldn't tell you how long he watched those millions of lights flicker in and out of existence, his companion standing loyally by his side during all of it. He only knows that his light (and when did it become his? When did this feeling of possession appear? And why does he feel like its mutual?) stays beside him as if waiting for the right moment to leave as well.

It's when he finally realizes this, the inevitability of it all, that, for the first time since he has become aware enough, he is overcome by an emotion.

Fear.

* * *

 

IV.

He doesn't mean to touch it, doesn't even know he has hands to touch something with, but despite this sudden awareness of limbs, he has little control over them.

His light is fading; bit by bit dissipating into the ether, going somewhere he cannot follow, leaving him behind.

Alone.

Before, he had not been aware enough to feel the loneliness.

He is now. And the thought terrifies him to the point of madness.

( _Don't go, please, don't leave me, I don't want to be alone, I can't stand being alone, please-!_ )

He touches the light, tries to grasp it tight between trembling fingers, an age-old animal instinct rather than cool logic dictating his actions.

It sucks him in.

* * *

 

V.

He is floating again, but this time it's different. There is still no fear or pain or confusion, but now he experiences other things. There is warmth, the feeling of safety. What might be a body, and all that entails. There is also a wall, soft and at the same time unyielding. Sometimes he presses against it, but only rarely and always briefly, because there's someone else in this cocoon of flesh and water who amuses themselves far too much with kicking at it.

And isn't that something. There is someone next to him (he is _notalonenotalonenotalone_ ), and they clutch at him with the same kind of ferocity used in dispatching liberal amounts of abuse to the limits of their safe haven.

He clutches right back.

* * *

 

VI.

Had he known what would happen in the years, decades to come, perhaps he wouldn't have delighted at the touch. Perhaps, had he known, he would have shrunk back from those reaching hands, would have imposed some distance even in their shared womb.

Perhaps, if he had known who this being that held him was, would become, he would have made the choice not to love her.

Perhaps, he would even hate her.

But it was unlikely.

* * *

 

VII.

Sound comes suddenly, in fits and bursts, unlike the biting cold that seems never-ending. There is no color, only a flood of blurry figures that means nothing to him before his vision is rendered obsolete again. He feels hands holding him upside down by his ankles and he is so cold, so shocked at being expelled from all he had ever known that he opens his mouth only for the sound to die on his throat, lungs not strong enough yet to let out the scream he wants.

Instead, another ( _the other_ ) does it for him, the piercing shriek so loud and infuriated at this indignity they both suffer that even his own discontentment is put on the backseat, now focused instead on following that sound, trying to reach the only thing that remains the same, that still makes sense in this strange new world. His cries, pitiful though they may be, echo the other's wails, and he can feel their anger, their terror at their separation, right down to the marrow of his frail bones.

They do not stop crying until they can feel each other again.

* * *

 

VIII.

His hearing gets better. His vision clears. He regains minimal control of uncooperative limbs. The adults speak, and he's starting to understand.

And all of that loses it's importance the moment that tiny hand reaches out from her side of their shared crib, wiggling towards him and pressing their bodies together until there's not an inch of space between them, sighing in relief together with the adults because _there, now she will be quiet._

Her.

Sister.

He reaches out and meets her halfway.

* * *

 

IX.

It's not surprising that she is the first thing he sees clearly.

A round face with chubby cheeks framed by black wisps of curly hair, pink skin flushed red with frustration as she stares up at the mobile hanging above their crib. Hands up and grasping at air and _you can't touch that silly, it's too high._

That doesn't deter her at all.

That relentless determination is hauntingly familiar.

He makes a noise then, an-almost-laugh that diverts her attention for just a moment, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of stormy grey eyes and-

_Oh. I know you._

(There's a hollowness in his chest threatening to consume him from the inside out, but he has no chest, no body to be consumed, and not enough sense of self to understand he's so alone, so alone until-

_Isn't it beautiful, this light?_

Until there's a little ball of light near what he thinks might be his heart, a star shining bright and oh, he's not alone anymore, never again-)

* * *

 

X.

He learns her name faster than he does his own.

Bellatrix.

BELL-a-trix.

Bella.

It sounds as beautiful as it does dangerous. It makes him think of things he has never seen before (not in this life, not yet, he has seen nothing of this world yet), things like warrior maidens of times past, stunning amazons astride their horses and deadly with sword and bow. It suits his sister, with the promise of beauty waiting in the curve of her smile.

(With the promise of violence hidden behind stormy greys.)

She looks at him from across the soft rug of their nursery ( _too far you're too far away come here_ ) and points at him angrily, yells her first word;

_Aiche!_

A large hand comes down to carefully brush her curls away and _It's Arcturus, my little warrior._

But it's too late. He knows his name now, and he learns it like this; on the untrained tongue of a demanding babe only minutes older (decades younger) than himself.

Archie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 01/04/2018  
> This is story is being rewritten, so, for old readers, it would be best to read chapter 1 again.

XI.

He looks up at the mobile hanging above their crib, eyes fixed on the blurred figure he is pretty sure is a toy owl in mid-flight, the one Bella is constantly grasping for.

He raises his hand, knowing it's futile, but Bella wants it _so much_ and the certainty of repeated failure never seems to stop her so how can he do any less?

So he reaches, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind saying it won't work, that he's not big enough, not strong enough, only-

There's a sudden weight on the palm of his hand, too big for his little fingers to close around and next to him Bella lets out a happy cry at the sight of the owl - it is an owl, a grey, fierce thing with spread wings and wicked-looking talons - at the same time their current caretaker gasps from their place near the rocking chair, popping away with the snap of fingers to fetch Master and Mistress because _oh glorious day, Young master Arcturus' first accidental magic-!_

The voice in the back of his head falls silent in what Archie knows to be shock, but isn't sure how he knows that. He can't even say how he knows what an owl is. He only knows that something momentous has occurred, but it's brushed aside when his sister pats his cheek and gives him a sloppy kiss when he offers her the prize.

A day later, Bella uses her magic to send a toy hurling towards their open window to scare away a raven who had startled Archie into crying, slamming it shut so forcefully it makes a crack on the glass after it flew away.

Their parents are ecstatic.

They are not yet one year old.

* * *

 

XII.

Maybe it says something about them, that Archie's first bit of magic was in deference to his sister, and Bella's in defense of him. Maybe it was there, in that small nursery under a magical mobile and across soft rugs, that the first seeds of how their relationship would evolve were planted.

It was there in the way Bella would sometimes lose her temper and tug at his hair to gain his attention until Archie would cry out and she would instead pat his head in apology. In the way Bella would crawl across the room and turn back to raise an imperious eyebrow when she saw he had remained stationary, the way she would wail until Archie got up and followed her. It was there in the way Bella scowled whenever she deemed he was spending too much time listening to the house-elf reading Beedle the Bard and railed against it until the frightened thing popped away.

It was there, in the way Bella would clamp her hand around Archie's wrist and not let go.

It was there from the beginning if one only cared to look.

(No one did)

* * *

 

XIII.

Sometimes, Archie dreamed. He dreamed of cars and planes and cellphones, things called guns and televisions, and sometimes, just sometimes, he dreamed of a man. Someone called David.

He is two years old when he tugs at Mother's skirt and asks _what's a plane?_

Mother goes pale and demands to know where he learned that word.

He's about to answer ( _I've always known, I think I might have been-_ ), but the Voice grows in volume in his head, warning him not to say anything, and Archie shrugs instead.

In the end, Mother decides it must have been the house-elf, small Dilly with her large pale blue eyes and a nervous smile and timid voice that only stops wavering when she's reading to Archie (not Bella, Dilly is terrified of Bella and his sister isn't interested in staying still long enough to listen), and Archie cries when he sees Mother brandish her wand.

Dilly screams, loud and long and hurting, and Archie hates this, _hateshateshates_.

Bella doesn't cry. Bella only looks interested and faintly irritated by the noise.

(He ignores the Voice that whispers _monster_ and lets his sister drag him back to their nursery)

He never mentions the things from his dreams again.

* * *

 

XIV.

Cygnus. Orion. Polaris. Rigel. Walburga. Pollux. Lyra. Meissa.

Bellatrix. Arcturus.

They are taught their names and their family and - above all - their blood with an intensity and care that bothers on the manic. They are proudly shown the grand family tapestry in Grimmauld Place, his Aunt Burga taking his hand and using his index finger to trace the leaves and twisting branches with his and his twin's name all the way down the first roots that show Licorus Black and his wife Magenta, who gave birth to three children, among them the very first Arcturus. Archie memorizes star names, moons, constellations, meteors, is captivated by the rich - and more often than not bloody - history of the Blacks. He goes further and tries to learn about those burnt out names, black scorch marks marring the otherwise pristine tree, tries to learn what happened to great-uncle Marius and Phineas II and Cedrella, only for Uncle Orion to drag him away with a dismissive _don't concern yourself with failures._

_You shan't be one of them._

Bella latches onto the family's beliefs like she did (still does) with Archie; she recites Father's speeches word by word, learns to say _Muggle_ and _Half_ - _bred_ and _Mudblood_ with the appropriate amount of venom and disgust, whispers _Toujours Pur_ under her breath with a shine in her eyes that makes them appear lighter (darker) than they really are.

They are taught that they are children of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Lords and Ladies in their own right, the closest thing the wizarding world has to royalty at this time. They are taught they don't have blood, but liquid gold running through their veins, that everyone and their mother wants.

Their bedtime stories change from Beedle the Bard to _have you ever heard how your ancestor Ankaa burned down a muggle village during Samhain?_

They have celestial names because they are pure enough to be worthy of them.

(And because the best Blacks are like stars; burning hot and bright and fast - and then dying.

Most Blacks, Archie realizes, looking at the tapestry, die young)

Bella nods and agrees and jumps in Father's lap, demanding more stories about Muggle-hunting, magic swirling with her excitement.

Archie nods and says nothing at all.

* * *

 

XV.

Here is the thing: Archie doesn't agree with his family.

But he doesn't _dis_ agree either.

(Even though there's a voice in his head saying _wrongwrongwrong, that's not right, we are human, we are all human beings-_ )

The truth is; Archie doesn't think he cares enough to form an opinion.

Bella is the passionate one. She is all fire and brimstone, burning even at the age of three, wild mane of hair now grown longer and tumbling down thin shoulders to match her free spirit. She is the one who watches with avid interest Mother discipline the house-elves, the one who's fascinated by Father's favorite hexes and curses and can't wait to hold a wand in her hand, so she can finally have an instrument who will pluck the words from her mind and place them into reality.

Archie is the calm one. The quiet, patient child, who says little but watches everything around him with eyes too old for his face. He's the one who sneaks a look into Father's papers in his office while he is distracted telling Bella stories, the one who will sit in Mother's lap and try to read a book not meant for a boy his age, while nodding at the right intervals to show he's listening while she rants about the dangers of Mudbloods. He is still water, a serene pond until someone tosses a pebble in it to see the ripples forming.

(And they don't see how quickly that pebble sinks, don't see the depth of this pond, that is no pond at all but a lake, a river, a roaring ocean, or that the ripples can form waves that will snuff you out just the same as uncontrollable Fiendfyre.)

Their parents look at Bellatrix and Arcturus and see two perfect examples of what pureblood children should be.

They don't notice the shadows behind Bella's eyes or catch the cold indifference in Archie's words.

* * *

 

XVI.

Here is what you need to know about Cygnus and Druella Black:

They are seventeen and twelve respectively when their parents tell them they are betrothed. Both Slytherins at Hogwarts, both purebloods, both top of their years, with power and wit in spades.

It's a match made in heaven.

Until it isn't.

Because Cygnus is seventeen-going-on-eighteen and he doesn't want to be saddled with a child as a wife even if they won't actually marry until Druella graduates Hogwarts. Because Cygnus Black is cool and collected and thinks the job of a woman is to be seen and not heard.

Because Druella at twelve is a spitfire of a girl, with opinions she's not shy about sharing, the first female to muscle her way in the Slytherin Quidditch team by sheer talent and competence alone. Because at twelve, Druella Rosier has bigger plans than to become a housewife the moment she graduates Hogwarts.

But they both are dutiful children, and they set aside their dislike for each other for the good of their families.

No one mentions how Cygnus keeps in contact with some of his old classmates of the female variety, visiting them in their homes while their husbands are away.

No one talks about that rumor (that stayed a rumor only by the strategic and unlawful use of _Confundus_ and _Obliviate_ ) about Druella Rosier being caught in the hallway kissing someone who was definitely _not_ her betrothed.

And there is certainly no mention that this someone was a girl.

* * *

 

XVII.

This is the married life of Cygnus and Druella Black;

They wake up in separate beds in separate rooms in opposed wings of the Black Manor in Dorset. They live their separate lives with little to no involvement with each other's, free to do whatever they please, so long as they are discreet about it. Their only point of contact is when it comes to the twins.

They are adults trapped in an unwanted and loveless marriage, sharing a bed only with the purpose to procreate. Cygnus hates Druella for being who she is (for making him doubt himself, for making him feel inferior, for being better than him) while Druella hates Cygnus for being like every other man in her life (controlling, abusive, entitled just because he was born with a cock-)

(Most of all, she hates him for not being the Black she really wants).

The only thing they can agree on is that the children should stay out of it.

* * *

 

XVIII.

It is one of those rare nights where all the family comes together to dine in the Black Manor, from their estranged uncle Alphard all the way to the Head of the Family, old Arcturus III, their first cousin twice removed Archie was named after.

Even great-aunt Dorea showed up, wisely leaving her Potter husband behind.

There is lull in the conversation that comes to a halt when Mother rises from her seat and announce;

_I'm pregnant._

Archie and Bella, by far the youngsters in the room, look at each other in confusion while everyone else celebrates and offers salutes.

They don't understand, only know that for once Father looks happy with Mother, and Mother herself seems to be glowing a bit as Aunt Burga takes her arm in hers and the two of them sit down together to whisper to each other,

* * *

 

XIV.

There's a bulge in Mother's belly and Archie is still trying to figure out how his new sibling ended up there (the Voice is strangely quiet on that subject) when she catches his hand on hers and presses it against the bump.

Bella is coming up behind him, peering at them from over his shoulder. Unlike her brother, she didn't seem half as interested in this new development, but wherever one of them go, the other is sure to follow.

Archie is about to ask why his hand is currently being held captive when something _shifts_ underneath his palm. His wide eyes must be funny, for Mother laughs Bella's laugh, or is that the other way around?

"This here is your new sister. I need you to be a good big brother for her, hmm Archie?"

And Archie, still frozen in wonder, is about to say _yes, I will_ , _trust me_ when-

Bella's hand is a steel band around his wrist as she pulls him back.

" _I'm_ his sister! He's _my_ brother!"

It's said in a high-pitched, absolutely furious tone, and Archie wants to rub his ears almost as much as the wrist that's still in Bella's hold.

Mother startles, drawing back as far as the couch she's sitting on will allow, face gone pale at the look on her daughter's face, and Bella immediately backtracks; looking contrite and offering _sorry, didn't mean it, will you forgive me, mommy?_

And Mother nods and says _of course_ , and never looks at Bella in quite the same way again.

* * *

 

XX.

When Andromeda is born, Archie overhears Mother ordering the house-elves never to leave Bella alone with the baby.

Sometimes, she looks at him like she's planning on giving him the same protection,

And Archie doesn't understand ( _he does_ ), is insulted ( _is afraid_ ) of the implications and _Bella's my twin, she would never hurt me!_

... Not intentionally, maybe.

But it's easy to ignore the bruise on his wrist when Bella is giving him her brightest smile over her shoulder as she drags him to a new adventure, the two children giggling as they run down the hallways of Black Manor.

So what if sometimes Bella grips him a tad too hard? What does it matter if she likes to tug on his hair a little too forcefully in order to gain his attention? Those are easily explained hurts, barely an ache at all, and Bella always looks so sad whenever he calls her attention to it.

She's just jealous of the new baby. She will learn to share.

Bella loves him, and Archie loves her, and that's all that matters in the end.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attention! There is mention of miscarriage in this chapter, nothing graphic, but there all the same, so if you have triggers, you really should not be reading this fic. There is also a small instance of child abuse.

XXI.

Archie was always the youngest Black, the little brother, the one who follows behind.

It is an unexpected - but nice - surprise to be leading for once.

At six months old, Andromeda looks like a miniature Bella, and like the eldest, she thrives on peoples' attention. Or, more specifically, on Archie's attention.

Archie doesn't mind. He likes feeling needed, and if Andromeda enjoys toddling after him and crawling into his lap for story time, then what's wrong with it? He promised Mother to be a good big brother. He doesn't mind helping take care of little Andy.

The problem is that Bella minds.

Bella minds very much.

* * *

 

XXII.

The first time Bella pinches Andromeda until she cries is also the first time Archie ever gets mad at his twin.

They are still in the nursery being entertained by Dilly, though he has heard their parents discussing that he and Bella are getting big enough for their own rooms. When he had shared that information with Bella, she had gone all quiet at the knowledge they would not share the nursery any longer, much less a bed.

Maybe that's what prompted the unusually aggressive action. Or maybe Bella has been waiting for an opportunity to do that for a long time now.

All Archie knows is that the angry-red mark on Andy's arm and the fat tears running down her chubby cheeks makes something inside him shake and boil and roar.

It's an uncomfortable feeling. He has never, not ever, been furious at Bella, even though he has more reasons to be than most.

But this is Andy. This is their little sister and _how could you-?_

* * *

 

XXIII.

It's not until Dilly is shaking him, pleading with him to let go, that he realizes he's on the other side of the room, as far away from a sniffling Andy as possible, hand clamped down hard on Bella's arm, having dragged her away with him.

Archie looks down at his hand, and this must be a day of firsts, for there's a bruise blooming on Bella's white skin.

He lets go as though burned and stares at his hand in horror.

His shock at his actions is overshadowed, however, by the unsettling look in Bella's eyes.

It's not fear or hurt that fills his sister's eyes. It would have been infinitely better if it was.

But no. It is the wondering gaze she levels at him that makes his skin prickle and shame (and something _worse_ ) pool in his stomach.

* * *

 

XXIV.

Archie orders Dilly not to mention anything to their parents. It takes more cajoling than usual, seeing as this was exactly what his Mother had been so worried about, but Archie is Dilly's favorite, so he gets his way in the end with a bit of clever wordplay and many promises to be more careful with their games. With that over, he proceeds to ignore Bella, who bears it with surprising grace. Instead of getting angry, like he expected, she leans against the wall, looking ( _admiring_ ) the mark he left behind.

In the weeks to follow, he pretends not to notice how Bella's hand always rub at the same spot, as though missing the flare of pain that used to accompany the action.

Bella never makes any move to hurt Andy again. But she never stops watching him with that considering gaze either.

(And the Voice in his head grows louder and louder and _louder_ -)

* * *

 

XXV.

Something changes.

They start to spend more and more time with Uncle Orion and Aunt Burga, so much so that they now have their own rooms at Grimmauld Place. But it's only when Archie sees the family tapestry that he begins to suspect what that change might be.

Under the branch with Aunt and Uncle's names, between them, is a tiny bud, as if a flower is about to sprout from the wall at any moment.

Aunt Walburga is not just getting fat, as Bella had so delicately put it earlier.

A short talk with Aunt's house-elf Kreacher and any doubts are laid to rest. The servant is almost vibrating with energy as he shares the news while giving them cookies they are most definitely not supposed to be having.

_Mistress is having a baby!_

Archie and his sister are, apparently, practice for when the Black Heir is born.

* * *

 

XXVI.

They are playing in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, their parents having left them there for another afternoon, when Archie carefully broaches the subject with Bella while keeping an eye on Andy's progress at learning to walk.

"Uncle Orion told me that it's going to be a boy. Are you excited about our cousin?"

Everyone else is after all. A new Heir to the House of Black, from the main line. Archie will admit he is a bit worried. He has always been the only boy in their family. What if Bella is more interested in this new, male cousin of theirs? He will be Heir after all. What if Bella loves him more-

"No."

The answer is so succinct it baffles him a little. "Why?"

He is certain that if Bella were any less of a lady, she would have rolled her eyes at him. "I already have you, silly. Why would I need anyone else?"

Archie would forever deny the warmth that invaded him at her words.

* * *

 

XXVII.

"It's terrible, what happened."

"A great loss, indeed. It hit them hard. They are still young though. They can try again."

Andy is sleeping in the nursery, and they are supposed to be asleep too, but Bella was curious, and Archie could only follow.

"Still. Burga won't leave her room. I'm worried about her."

"My sister is a strong woman. She will get over it."

"You don't just _get over it_ , Cygnus-"

They aren't so much hiding as just waiting on the top of the stairs, just out of sight but close enough to hear the voices being carried from the living room. They hold their breaths whenever it looks like one of their parents are coming closer.

"Just don't take the children when you visit. I don't think either one can bear to look at them."

"I know that, I'm not stupid."

The voices quieten, and Bella turns to him, a quizzical look on her face as she asks;

_What's a miscarriage?_

* * *

 

XXVIII.

Once, there was a man named David Yates. This David was a married man, father of two daughters and with a third on the way.

He was also the father of a boy once. A boy who didn't even get the chance to breathe before life was stolen from him while still the womb.

That is all Arcturus Black can think of, as tears stream down his face and his twin shake him with increasing desperation at his unresponsive state.

It's only when Bellatrix starts crying too that Archie snaps out of it. He looks at her in wonder. His sister never cried before. She screamed and shrieked and raised hell, but she never cried like the child she was.

Bella is crying now. Because of him. The shame is all-consuming.

That is how their parents find them; curled up on the floor at the top of the staircase, faces mushed together and hugging each other so tightly it's hard to breathe.

* * *

 

XXIX.

Their Mother visits Grimmauld frequently, but neither Andy nor the twins set foot in it again. In fact, it appears that Druella has permanently moved to her sister-in-law's house, for all the times the children see their mother now.

This has the undesirable effect of placing their rearing to their Father.

At four, their Father has decided they are big enough to sleep separately, and Bella goes on to perform her greatest tantrum yet, to the point of shattering anything with glass inside the manor.

While Cygnus is pleased with this demonstration of magical power from his eldest, he is far less joyous by the deliberate defiance.

The ringing sound of a slap makes even Dilly, dithering outside the room, let out a squeak and vanish with a pop.

And Archie...

Well. Archie sees red.

* * *

 

XXX.

He comes to with the sound of Andy's babbling in his ear, his twin tugging at the long curls of his hair, attempting to braid them, and his pale-faced Mother kneeling in front of him.

Father is slumped on what remains of the nursery's rocking chair, something red dripping down his temple and pooling on the floor.

For a moment, Archie imagines him dead.

(Because he slapped Bella, and his Mother too, he's not _blind_ , and what if he touched Andy and **_he hurt Bella_** -

The Voice is silent in his head. If it is in shock, horror, or grim satisfaction, it's impossible to tell)

From his place on the floor, Cygnus lets out a low groan and Archie tenses. His Mother immediately hushes to calm him down.

"No, no, it's alright Archie, it's alright, you're safe. Mother will take care of it. You just... you just worry about yourself. And your sisters. You take care of your sisters, yes Archie?"

And Archie nods _of course_. Looks at her as if she's a fool for even have to ask. Turns to smile at Andy, careful not to mess with Bella's work on his hair.

He ignores his Mother's quiet  _Reparo_ at the chair, or the following  _Obliviate_ aimed at his Father. He ignores everything but the sound of Andy's voice and the feel of Bella's hands.

He will  _always_  take care of his sisters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more mentions of miscarriage in this chapter, as well as domestic abuse, so be warned. I also added some tags.

XXXI.

Cygnus Black wakes up in the couch with a splitting headache and a squeaky-voiced house-elf yapping in his ear about how _Master Black fell down the stairs and hit his head, poor Master Black, does Master is wanting anything?_

It worsens the pounding in his head.

He sends a hex towards the annoying thing, wanting silence, suddenly remembering he has urgent business to deal with in St. Petersburg regarding the Dolohovs, and is out of the house the very next morning, barely stopping to kiss his cold wife goodbye and pat the children’s heads on his way out.

He doesn’t notice the way Andromeda hides away behind Druella’s skirts, or how Bellatrix eyes his hand as if wanting to take a bite out of it.

He certainly doesn’t see the way Arcturus watches him leave with cold, calculating eyes.

But his headache gets worse, and the feeling of dread never leaves him for the entirety of the journey to Russia

Cygnus is never comfortable around Arcturus anymore, and he can’t quite say why.

( _It must be the eyes_ , he finally decides. The boy, instead of being born with the Black’s trademark grey eyes like his sister, ended up with the Rosier’s famous blue. An arresting shade of ice-blue, he will admit. One of his wife's finest features.

But deeply unnerving, all the same.)

* * *

 

XXXII.

Though they are mature for their age, four is still a bit too young for their Mother to feel comfortable leaving them alone with only Dilly for company, especially after what just happened. So, after a great deal of deliberation, she hesitantly takes all three of them to Grimmauld Place.

Archie is half-sure they will be sent back the moment they step out of the fireplace.

He’s wrong.

If anything, they are received even more warmly than before, though there is something distressingly sad sometimes when Uncle Orion looks at Archie, and he is sure he caught Auntie Burga crying in Mother's shoulder while holding a sleeping Andy.

It makes his heart hurt, and he abandons all the lessons about propriety drilled in him by his parents and insists on climbing up in Auntie Burga’s lap, so she can read to him (even though he already knows how) and spends hours listening to Quidditch games over the radio with Uncle Orion (even though he doesn’t care much about the sport).

His sister is annoyed he is spending so much time with people who are not her, but keeps he complaints to herself, for which Archie is glad.

His Mother, as if she knows what he is doing, only gives him a proud look.

* * *

 

XXXIII.

In the absence of Cygnus, it falls to Uncle Orion to take up the slack as the father figure to his cousin’s children.

He begins doing that, by deciding he will teach the twins how to play Quidditch.

Archie would much rather go back to listening to the games. Wasn’t it enough? Did he really have to play the sport too?

Bella is excited. But Archie has learned long ago that his sister always gets excited when violence in on the table.

And there’s going to be violence if anybody tries to hurl a bludger at him.

(Bella tries. Of course she does.

It hits poor Uncle Orion instead.)

* * *

 

XXXIV.

“Don’t fall, please,” Archie cautions his sister, in vain, he knows. But it would be equally pointless to tell her not to touch the child-sized broom, so the best he can hope for is that she won’t give him a premature heart attack.

The smile Bella sends him is at the same time blinding in its intensity, and horrifying in its meaning.

 _Oh Mordred_ , he thinks dumbly, watching his twin shout _UP_! and proceed to zig-zag through the air with wild abandon, their frantic uncle soaring after her.

He can still remember her say over her shoulder, _stop worrying._

_Blacks don’t fall._

(And the dream of a dark-haired, grey-eyed man falling inside a veil after a flash of deadly green hits him fills his mind for a moment;

Archie blinks, and forgets.)

* * *

 

XXXV.

Cygnus pops in and out of their lives like a house-elf, with little care, staying only long enough to drill his children about the education they were receiving and perhaps reassure himself that they still remember his face.

Andy only does because of the family tapestry, which Auntie Burga shows to the children almost daily, proud as can be of one’s lineage. Bella cares little about their sire, and Archie cares even less. He imagines sometimes the face Cygnus would make if he heard his only son call Orion Father.

But the momentary satisfaction that would bring wasn’t worth the trouble, even though it was true. While Mother and Auntie took care of Andy, the house and the talks with other families, Orion would take upon himself to teach the twins everything they would need to know to not only get by in life but excel in it, like true Blacks (even if the subject at the time is Quidditch).

(Even the Voice inside him sounds approving, which has never, as far as Archie is aware, done before. _He’s misguided_ , it says, as Orion begins today’s lesson about the Muggle’s evil ways, _but he’s a good father._

_Or will try to be._

Archie rolls his eyes. Of course Uncle Orion is a good father. Even Bella thinks so.)

* * *

 

XXXVI.

Mother and Auntie’s bellies grow together, and the joy that fills Grimmauld Place is very nearly palpable. Talks about a betrothal between the children still in the womb in one of the women’s favorite topics to discuss and Auntie is determined to have one of her friend Ella’s girls as her son’s wife and her daughter-in-law.

Mother gives birth in the beginning of December 1955, four months before the twin’s fifth birthday, to a little girl as blonde as she. Taking advantage of her husband’s absence, she names her Narcissa.

Auntie’s little boy is cremated, and his ashes spread by the winds, as is the Black way. _He has gone on to become a star_ , Uncle Orion tells them as he holds them closer and Auntie cries in Mother’s arms.

* * *

 

XXXVII.

Archie knows that couples fight. He has known that since he was still two years old, gripping the bars of his crib as the raised voices of his parents echo through the manor, as he sees his Mother rush inside the nursery with hand-shaped bruises around her arms and tears that stubbornly refuse to fall from her eyes.

But he has never seen or heard Auntie and Uncle fight before. They bicker (oh Merlin, do they bicker) but the love and genuine respect between them are so obvious that a blind house-elf could see it.

So it’s jarring, to listen to them shout at each other now. It feels wrong, and he wants to go back to his room and close the door, but Bella is telling him to be quiet, trying to eavesdrop, even though she doesn’t understand half the things that are being said.

Neither does Archie, who is arguably the smarter twin. He doesn’t understand what Auntie Burga means when she says to be barren ( _I can’t do this anymore Orion. It’s the third time, I can’t handle a fourth one_ ), or why she urges her husband to name a Heir Black ( _The family needs an heir, you know that)_ , or why the line of succession is so important ( _You are my wife and if you think I will set you aside like yesterday’s Daily Prophet I **will**  curse you Walburga-) _or about his place in it (… _what about Archie?)_.

He doesn’t understand, but the Voice does. And for some reason, it makes it frantic.

(It whispers to him at night, saying _this is not right_ , and _it shouldn’t be you_ , _it’s supposed to be Sirius-_ )

Archie wakes up the next morning with the name of the brightest star in the sky on his tongue and doesn’t know why.

* * *

 

XXXVIII.

On the twin’s fifth birthday, the whole family gathers, even Old Man Arcturus, and while Cygnus looks proud beyond measure, the atmosphere is grim. Auntieieie is stone-faced, Uncle Orion looks sad and Mother like she’s about to cry, holding baby Narcissa tightly in her arms.

Archie doesn’t understand what is happening when Lord Black kneels in front of him, taking his chin in hand, turning it this way and that, inspecting it like they’ve never met before. His tongue feels leaden inside his mouth and he wants to wrench himself away and hide behind his twin, let Bella speak up for him, let her be the barrier between him and the rest of the world. He knows his big sister would, without thinking twice.

But Bella is being held in place by Cygnus, an incensed, frozen look on her features, incapable of reaching him by the hand on her shoulder and the spell that just came from their sire’s wand.

 _He will do_ , Lord Black says as he passes his son on his way out, and Uncle Orion’s shoulders seem to slump in defeat without moving at all. He takes Archie in his arms and tells him, voice light as a feather

 _Do you see this ring, Arcturus?_ And that’s wrong, he has never called him Arcturus before, no one does but his absent and cruel sire. It was always Archie, Archie, Archie, always _Archie_ -

The ring is simple but beautiful, a deep blue stone with the Black’s coat-of-arms engraved in the jewel, surrounded by silver. It glints menacingly under the light cast from the flames in the hearth. It is the ring worn by the Heir Black and it’s not meant for him, it’s not-

_This ring will be yours one day._

For the first time in his life, Archie Black feels utterly and completely alone.

* * *

 

XXXIX.

Uncle Orion is not Uncle anymore, but Lord Black, the ring on his finger a different, larger, gaudy one.

The previous ring he wore now sits on a silver chain around Archie’s neck, still too big for the boy to wear. It rests underneath his robe, squarely over his heart, seeming to pulse with every beat of it.

Archie is not Archie anymore either. Now he is Arcturus Black IV, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Bella is thrilled and brags to everyone who will listen how her brother will make an excellent Lord one day until Mother snaps at her to be quiet. It doesn’t stop her from sneaking inside his room in the middle of the night and slipping into his bed, toying with the chain and watching the ring with pride and fascination.

Archie feels like pucking.

( _It’s not supposed to be like this, what changed, what changed, it’s not supposed to be **like this** -_)

* * *

 

XL.

A ball is held in the Black Manor of Dorset to commemorate Orion and Walburga’s ascension to the lofty titles of Lord and Lady of a Noble House, and, of course, to present their heir to the other pureblood Houses.

Lady Black, his Mother, and his sisters look magnificent in their respective dresses, though none looks more beautiful than Bella, in Archie’s honest opinion. At five, they are not expected to talk much or dance like the older kids, but Auntie has already promised lessons in the future ( _the Black Heir must perfect such basic skills as dancing and socializing_ ) and it’s entertaining enough to watch and sway a little with the music. Only a little though, because if anyone noticed, it would make him look like a fool ( _the Black Heir must always conduct himself with discipline and poise_ ).

He and Bella have been split apart earlier on so that Archie could be paraded in front of respectable families with daughters of the right age to arrange a betrothal, and he spends most of that time surreptitiously trying to catch sight of wild black curls and stormy eyes.

That’s why he doesn’t notice the boy in front of him until he speaks up.

_My name’s Rodolphus Lestrange. It’s a pleasure to meet you._

Archie doesn’t know yet, but he has just met his future best friend.

(The Voice knows this will only end in tragedy.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline is something like this;
> 
> 1951 - Bella and Archie are born at the beginning of April.  
> 1954 - Andromeda is born late in May. Walburga suffers her first miscarriage later in the year and Druella basically moves into Grimmauld Place to cheer her friend (and crush) up.  
> 1955 - Still in the first months of the year the Nursery Incident happens, and Cygnus leaves the family to spend most of his time consorting with Russian wizards and sampling Russian witches; Narcissa, Cygnus and Druella's last child, is conceived during one of the former's visits and is born in December. Walburga has another miscarriage and, afraid for the future of the family (and terrified of having to go through that again), convinces Orion of the need of an heir.  
> 1956 - The twins complete five years of age. Archie Black is named Heir Black (and only Bella and Cygnus are happy about it).


	5. Chapter 5

XLI.

Rodolphus Lestrange is a thin brunette with chartreuse-colored eyes and an inquisitive mind. He is tall (taller than Archie), with a soft voice and seems to prefer to listen rather than talk, which is a novelty to Archie, whose whole family seems to be participating in a contest of who can talk the most and the loudest.

When the adults give them leave to mingle, the silence that falls between the two boys is comforting instead of awkward, and Archie wastes no time in sharing the dessert he convinced Dilly to give him. When the mood strikes, they begin talking about their families.

While Archie gushes about Bella and Andy and baby Cissa, Rodolphus tells him about Bass, whose first bit of accidental magic was to send a book his brother was reading soaring away to gain his attention. They commiserate over being the level-headed one among their siblings, and when Rodolphus innocently asks _your twin is here?_ Archie suddenly realizes

_Where’s Bella?_

* * *

 

XLII.

Bella, as it turned out, had been paraded around by Cygnus much like Archie had been by their Uncle.

The difference is that, unlike Archie, Bella did not go quietly.

“What did you do?” he asks somewhere between giddy and horrified, an open-mouthed Rodolphus standing by his shoulder.

Bella smirks and twirls, showing off the still smoking remains of her irreparably-damaged dress. “There was an accident,” she says simply. “Fire may have been involved.”

The look on her face told him that she had made sure of it.

* * *

 

XLIII.

When the ball is over and the goodbyes and promises of a playdate been made, and Bella has sneaked into his room again, Archie repeats his question, under the safety of the covers.

The answer shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

“I tripped one of the house-elves,” she says blithely, playing with the chain around Archie’s neck. “Made it drop a tray full of pastries on me and then tugged at the tablecloth to topple a candle. The thing almost caught fire. I head it sobbing when Auntie gave it clothes.” She finishes with a giggle.

“Don’t do that again,” he warns her, pulling the ring away from her hand. She had started tugging at it and it hurt his neck. “You could have hurt yourself. Next time, just wait for me.”

The laugh that escapes out of her mouth is so loud Archie’s afraid someone may hear it.

“Why? Are you going to save me? Be my white knight, like in those muggle fairy tales Aunt Dorea talked about?”

“Yes,” Archie answers honestly.

“But I don’t want a white knight. I want a _Black_ one.”

“Then I will be that,” he tells her quietly, fervently. Honestly.

Archie Black loves his sister. He will always love her. It's as simple as that.

( _Oh, but you’re so young_ , the Voice whispers sadly. _Don’t you know that nothing lasts forever?_ and Archie bats it away)

Bella’s eyes glitter in the darkness, and Archie thinks that it would be easy, to drown in them.

He thinks he wouldn’t mind.

( _So young and naïve_ )

* * *

 

XLIV.

Against all odds, Bella _likes_ Rodolphus.

Archie is mind-boggled.

His twin had taken ages to warm up to their own sisters, despite Archie’s urgings and Mother’s words about being a good example as the eldest. To this day, Archie still must drag her away whenever it looks like she’s getting bored with their younger sisters.

(A bored Bella is a dangerous Bella, as Archie well knows.)

A part of Archie is mortally offended in Andy and Cissa’s behalf. He likes Rodolphus, he really does, but what’s so special about him that Bella can stand sharing her brother with him when she has to be bribed to the same when it comes to their sisters? Why does Lestrange get the approval?

Rodolphus asks _what’s wrong?_ looking so worried at his friend’s brooding and Archie feels incredibly guilty.

_It’s not your fault_ , he wants to tell him. _If anyone’s, it’s Bella._

But the indignation doesn’t go away, especially when Bella smiles at the brunette boy and takes his hand to drag him into another game of exploding snap.

(Neither does the jealousy.)

* * *

 

XLV.

Here are the reasons why Bellatrix Black likes Rodolphus Lestrange.

Rodolphus is less pretty than Archie, but enough to pass her standards (she dislikes ugly people) and is quiet like her brother beside. If he were a chatterbox like her annoying little sisters, Bella would like him a lot less.

She likes him because he doesn’t draw much attention (doesn’t draw _Archie’s_ attention) and likes the fact he is tall. She has seen the brawny man that is Lestrange Sr., and has heard people say Rodolphus will grow up to look just like his father. Bella has learned from her own father the power an intimidating build can project to the people around you, and the thought of having such strength on her side pleases her (Bella likes having power. She likes it a lot).

She likes that he is smart, not as much as her brother, but far above the level of the other children they met at the ball. He can provide enough amusement to not bore her, which is always a plus. She likes that he follows along, and doesn’t make a fuss even if he doesn’t agree with her like Archie sometimes do.

Above all, Bellatrix likes the fact that, between her and Rodolphus Lestrange, there is no contest. She doesn’t have to compete for her twin’s attention like she does with Andromeda and Narcissa, doesn’t have to watch the indecision on Archie’s face when Cissy begins crying but Bella is calling him to her side, or when he leaves her to help Andy read.

She likes to know that, between her and Rodolphus Lestrange, it’s obvious who Archie will choose.

* * *

 

XLVI.

They are seven years old, and it’s become the norm to watch the twins spending time with Rodolphus in the Lestrange Manor, and for Rodolphus to sleep over at the twins’. This time, they are in the gardens of Black Manor, a grand, sprawling thing, with magical and common plants abound, and not one gnome to ruin the scenery. There was also a stable of pegasi once upon a time, but it had been burned down long before the twin’s birth, during an argument between Cygnus and Auntie Walburga when they were children, and no one ever got around to fixing it.

Archie’s favorite spot is the small grove in the center of the garden, where he can sit under the shade for hours at a time, watching the clouds drift along in the sky.

He is showing it to Rodolphus when Bella’s surprised gasp steals his attention completely.

They turn, and there she is, hands cupped together, holding a baby bird.

“It broke its wings,” Bella tells them when they are near enough, keen eyes spotting the wound.

“We should help,” Rodolphus says. And Archie nods, looking not at the bird, but at Bella’s face.

Bella’s eerily blank face.

Rodolphus runs back inside, searching for an adult, and the twins are left alone, with Bella staring at the bird in her hands and Archie staring at Bella.

“I heard Mother saying that bird’s bones are hollow so that they can fly. That must mean they are also very frail, hmm?”

He realizes what she pretends to do moments before she does it.

He reaches out, wanting to snatch the bird out of her hands, the word _Bella don’t-_ about to spring from his tongue…

It’s too late.

A sharp _crack_ and the bird is dead, neck bent at an unnatural angle, falling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Numbly, Archie stares at the remains before turning his eyes to Bella. She stares right back at him, lips twitching upwards as though repressing a grin.

* * *

 

XLVII.

Rodolphus returns with Mother in tow, only to find the bird with a broken neck instead.

“What happened?” the brunette asks, looking distraught. Mother doesn’t ask, only takes a look at the bird and then glares coolly at Bella.

It’s instinctual, for Archie to step between them, taking Bella’s hand in his. It’s without thinking, that he lies to his Mother ( _an accident, the bird tried to fly away, it fell, not Bella’s fault_ ) for Bella. It’s with growing guilt, but resolution, that he meets Rodolphus’ eyes head-on and says, _of course, we will help you bury it._

During all of it, he can feel Bella’s smile pressed against his shoulder, hidden from the world.

(But not from Archie. Never from him.)

* * *

 

XLVIII.

“Why did you do it?”

“I wanted to see what would happen.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong!”

“Why did you help me then?”

There’s no answer this time.

(Stormy grey eyes glint at him from underneath his bed covers, a flash of white teeth bared in an impish smile and the Voice says _you’ve invited the monster under the bed to share it with you._

Bella touches her mouth to his neck and for a moment he imagines she will rip his throat out. He imagines that he will let her.

Instead, she whispers words on his skin, like a hot brand on his soul

_We’re the same, you and I_

And Archie wonders.)

* * *

 

XLIX.

It is weeks after the incident, and Archie is, for once, the one who ends up eavesdropping on the adults.

He does it completely by accident, wanting only to go downstairs to the kitchen and grab a glass of water and unwilling to wake Dilly just for that when he hears the voices and freezes outside the room.

“It was an accident, we’re being so careful, casting all the anticonception spells-”

“Does Orion know?”

“No, not yet, I’m-” a pause, someone breathing deeply as if to calm themselves down. “I’m afraid Ella. I’m so afraid.”

“Burga-”

“What if I lose it? What will I do? I can’t anymore, Druella, I can’t-”

“Listen to me. You will keep this baby. You will hold it in your arms, sweetling, I promise you.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“I will be with you every step of the way. I can promise you _that_.”

* * *

 

L.

Aunt Walburga reveals her third pregnancy to hesitant smiles and heavy silence during the gathering for the twins’ eighth birthday. Some say that third time’s charm, but that’s a muggle saying, and the Blacks are not muggles.

If it’s a girl, they say, her name will be Lyra, and she will be Archie’s wife.

They don’t say anything about the possibility of it being a boy, apart from what name they will use, but Archie is a smart boy and can read the fine print.

If it’s boy, his name will be Sirius. And he will be Archie’s rival.

(Archie prays, every night, that it will be a boy.

The Voice whispers _it will be._ )


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! At this point, there is little to no boundaries between Bella and Archie, and the following chapter shows how true that is. There is a slight incestuous situation in LVII/LVIII. Nothing graphic and they are still kids that don't know what they are doing, but it's there, and it might become a problem in the future.  
> Remember guys, this is a fic about a deeply unhealthy relationship.  
> I was actually inspired by characters of A Song of Ice and Fire, Cersei and Jaime's account of their own childhood back in the Rock, where their mother caught them 'exploring' each other.  
> So really, you can thank G.R.R.M for that.

LI.

Baby Sirius reminds Archie of Andy and Cissa when they were just born, though only half as cute. Regardless, he is cuter than Rodolphus’ little brother, which gives Archie no small amount of smugness. Better yet, Sirius is a boy, Lord Black’s firstborn son, and thus, eligible as heir, the preferred one, in fact. That just endears him more to Archie.

It does the exact opposite to Bella.

* * *

 

LII.

His sister is incensed, and Archie is careful not to pay any large amount of attention to their little cousin whenever Bella is within range. He has learned from their sisters that Bella’s jealousy knows no bounds, not even those of blood, and the fact that Sirius is a threat to what she sees as Archie’s rightful place only exacerbates the matter.

That does not, however, stops Archie from tickling Sirius’ tummy when his twin’s back is turned.

Sirius’ laugh, strangely enough, reminds him of a dog barking.

* * *

 

LIII.

Bella is not the only one displeased about Sirius’ birth.

There are grumbles from what remains of Old Arcturus’ generation, complaining about the impropriety of it all. Half of them want Sirius to be named Heir Black at once, while the other half insists on waiting until he has proven himself capable. _He could turn out to be a Squib,_ some whisper out of Lady Black’s earshot. _At least Arcturus already has proven himself a fine wizard._

Cygnus is the most vocal of the lot, irked that his only son might be brushed aside in favor of his sister’s newborn. He had been ever so proud when Arcturus was named Heir; he would disgrace himself with a Mudblood before relinquishing the prestige being the Heir’s father granted him.

Archie learns all that by interrogating Dilly and Kreacher under the pretense of being worried about the family’s growing chasm, blaming himself for it. His kicked-puppy face works like a charm, and the house-elves fall over themselves trying to assuage him.

(He really does partly blames himself for it, so it doesn’t make him feel very guilty.

The Voice inside his head snorts and says something that sounds suspiciously like _Slytherin_.)

* * *

 

LIV.

Weeks later, and the discussion still goes strong. Lines are drawn in the sand, Old Arcturus in one side and Cygnus in the other, the rest of the family left scrambling to pick a side. All of them urge Orion to make a decision that will affect the family for generations to come.

He and Aunt Walburga remain silent.

And Archie gets fed-up.

* * *

 

LV.

The only reason Archie doesn’t throw the ring at Uncle Orion’s face is because he has too much respect for this man that practically raised him and his sisters to do so.

(Besides, Uncle Orion is _tall_. Archie’s not sure enough of his aim to hit him in the face.)

He still thrust out his arm, palm up and displaying the chain and the ring in it, ready to be plucked at the man’s leisure.

 _There,_ he thinks. _Now things can go back to how they are supposed to be._

If Cygnus were here, he would snatch his arm back and hex him for his trouble. If it was Bella, she would scream in rage, probably break something, before dragging him away. He likes to think Mother would approve.

“It belongs to your son,” he tells his Uncle, as seriously as an eight-year-old boy can.

Lord Black – and he _is_ Lord Black now, the power falling over his shoulders like a well-fitted mantle – looks back at him with the family’s grey eyes, the only feature Archie didn’t inherit, and-

A large hand covers his own, carefully working his fingers to close around the jewel.

“You are no less my son than Sirius. If your little brother wants to be Heir, then he will have to work for it. I didn’t spend the last five years raising you only to watch all my good work crumble, Archie.”

Archie says nothing, and if water gathers in the corner of his eyes, Uncle Orion is too well-bred to mention it.

* * *

 

LVI.

“I knew it.”

Bella’s eyes are bright when they zero on the chain half-covered by his shirt. Technically, he is already old enough to wear the ring on his finger, but he has grown accustomed to its weight around his neck, and until it’s time to go to Hogwarts, he thinks the ring will stay exactly where it is.

Archie plays dumb. “What are you talking about?”

But Bella is his older sister, his twin, his mirror-image. Bella knows him better than himself does sometimes.

She probably knew, from the moment he left her behind, what he intended to do. Oh, how she must have raged.

And can see now how he failed. The smile on her face should belong to an angel.

( _Or perhaps the hungry, merciless cat that ate the canary_ )

“ _You_ are Heir Black,” she croons, holding out her arms. He goes to her without hesitation, because not going is unthinkable.

And if that means Bella won’t look at Sirius with quite as much distaste as before, then Archie is fine with the title.

(For now)

* * *

 

LVII.

They've just turned nine years old, too old to share a bed, but that’s what they do. What they’ve done since they were four and their parents decided to grant them different rooms.

Archie had long since bribed the house-elves not to say anything to the adults, and they are always careful not to make noise when crossing the hallway to the other’s room. They slip inside each other’s beds in the middle of the night and leave only at daybreak, like a pair of lovers trying to keep a secret. Not that they know what lovers are; they are twins, children with no boundaries, and children do as they like until someone tells them _no_.

And they are nine years old, too old to share a bed or to understand why they shouldn’t, old enough to know that if you love someone you kiss them, but young enough to think that makes it okay to kiss your sibling.

They are nine years old and breaking taboos when someone finally tells them _no_.

( _Too little, too late_ )

* * *

 

LVIII.

The summer heat of that year had been so unforgiving that it drove the two of them to discard their nightclothes until only their underwear remained, and even that had been under heavy debate before Archie finally convinced Bella that it would be better if they wore _something_. Archie’s face is pressed against Bella’s chest, her hands petting his hair, his leg thrown over hers and the sound of her heartbeat is the sweetest song he has ever heard.

And Mother’s face is white as she watches the two of them in bed.

Dread washes over him, chasing the contentment away, and he doesn’t quite understand why there’s something hot like shame brewing in the back of his mind. He just knows that it’s enough for him to try disentangling himself, but Bella is quicker; the hands on his hair tighten into fists, keeping him in place, her legs holding him down. He cannot see her face but can imagine her look; flyaway black curls and flashing grey eyes, an impassive face that betrayed no nervousness, much less embarrassment.

Sometimes he wondered if his twin even knew the word’s meaning.

He prays that she won’t open her mouth. And of course that Bella, wild, arrogant, cheeky Bella, opens her mouth.

“Problem, Mother?”

Things go downhill from there.

* * *

 

LIX.

_Never again Archie. Do you hear me? Never again. Promise me that._

It occurs to Archie that she doesn't bother extracting a promise from Bella. Their Mother probably knows, like Archie himself, that Bella would never mean it, never even pretend to.

But Archie has always been the good boy, the nicer twin, the dutiful son. Archie just might.

And so Archie promises. He doesn’t understand why he must, why this is so important to his mother, doesn’t understand what he and Bella did wrong… but he promises all the same. And he intends to keep it, regardless of the betrayed look his sister sends his way.

But you know what they say about good intentions.

* * *

 

LX.

They are eleven years old, and Mother has made sure they hardly ever see each other.

Bella is sent to great-aunt Cassiopeia, under the guise of ‘learning how to be a proper pureblooded lady’ and the screaming match that took place on that day went down in the Black Family’s horror stories. Archie moves permanently to Grimmauld Place, where Uncle Orion can continue his training and he now has two little brothers to take care of instead of two little sisters and a twin. The separation feels like losing a limb; worse, even, as if all the world has been muted without Bella by his side. Sometimes Archie thinks he cannot breathe, and others it takes a great deal of effort to rise from the bed.

Sometimes, Archie sinks his head beneath the water of the bathtub and imagines that on the other side of Britain, Bella does the same. He imagines that they break the surface together, taking in great gulps of air, breathing in tandem, faces red, their hearts racing and beating as one.

It makes him feel less alone.

(And they don’t know that, at this very moment, two owls take flight from an ancient castle, going opposite directions, but carrying the same letter.

A letter bearing a coat of arms with a lion, a serpent, an eagle and a badger, all bowing to the imposing black  _H_.)

 

**End of Part I**


	7. Interlude - Harry

It was while looking at the staff table for the second time (carefully avoiding glancing in the Potions Master’s direction again) that Harry noticed him.

It was no wonder that he had missed him in the first place, considering he had taken the very last chair on the right, after Hagrid’s. The giant of a man very nearly covered the other from view, especially when the latter appeared to be doing his utmost best to go through the whole feast unnoticed.

But it was quite impossible to not stare once Harry had caught sight of him. The man quietly sipping at his goblet had to be the most beautiful person in the Great Hall, with thick, lustrous wavy dark hair brushed back from his face, which sported high cheekbones, full lips, a strong jaw and large, heavily-lidded, luminous eyes a shade of arctic blue Harry had never seen before.

He reminded him of an older, more regal Sirius.

“Hey, Percy,” Harry called to the older redhead. “Who’s that one?” He nodded at the Sirius-lookalike.

Percy frowned at the question, trying to see who Harry had been referring to before his eyes widened in understanding and… was that a flash of nervousness?

“Oh, that… That’s Professor Black.” He answered hurriedly, before staring at his plate as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Black?”

“Yes, he teaches History of Magic. He’s been here almost as long as Professor Snape, started a little later, in fact. His classes are miles better than our last professor in the subject, or so I am told… he was a ghost apparently… Professor Cuthbert Binns, who died in the staffroom. It must have been terribly fascinating to be taught by a ghost…”

“Any relations to Sirius Black?” Harry cut in when it looked like Percy was going to start rambling about the former, not-deeply-missed ghost teacher.

Looking rather flustered, Percy nodded. “Cousins, I think. There was some confusion years ago about the Black Heirship, but after Sirius Black was disowned and the Professor renounced, the title passed down to Sirius’ younger brother, who’s now Lord Black.”

_I didn’t know Sirius had cousins. I didn’t even know he had a brother._

Then again, Harry hadn’t even known Sirius was a wizard until the man had knocked on his Uncle and Aunt’s door to deliver his Hogwarts letter. Until that moment, Harry thought that the nice couple living next door (or _the_ _bloody puffs_ as Uncle Vernon liked to call them) were simply a little quirky and oddly invested in his future. Not that he minded; being constantly babysat by Uncles Padfoot and Moony were the highlights of his younger years. The two men were more of a family to him than his Aunt and Uncle ever were.

Granted, the Dursleys never shoved him on a cupboard under the stairs and forgot he existed, but they always made sure to remind Harry just how unwanted he was. It had been a relief to leave the oppressing atmosphere in Number 4 for the house next door, to the smell of Remus’ home-baked cookies and the sound of Sirius’ boisterous laughter. Finding out that Sirius was his godfather was almost better than finding out Harry was a wizard too.

But now, as Harry watched the quiet man who was his godfather’s cousin, it occurred to Harry how little he knew about… well, everything. He understood the need for secrecy considering that a murderous Dark Lord could still be at large, waiting for the right moment to try and kill Harry again, like he did his parents, but he was eleven now, a Hogwarts student and there were so many things about the wizarding world Harry was still ignorant to; things that everyone else around him already knew as common knowledge.

It made Harry feel stupid; and he hadn’t felt that way since the first and last time Moony had given him his ‘I’m-quietly-disappointed-in-you-cub’ look when Harry had finally admitted that the reason his grades had fallen so far was because Uncle Vernon had threatened to cut his time with him and Padfoot short if he didn’t stop making Dudley look bad.

(As if Moony and Padfoot would let the Dursleys stop them from seeing Harry. It would be easier to convince Dudley to start a diet.)

With a new resolve burning at the forefront of his mind to start researching the Wizarding World, Harry Potter glanced at the man sitting on the last chain on the right again.

There was something… terribly sad about this darkly handsome man. As if a great burden had made itself at home on his shoulders, the weight of it sucking all joy from his life; as if something was missing, and its lack was a bleeding wound in his chest, where his heart was supposed to be.

“He looks so… sad,” Harry finally said, the word not nearly enough to properly convey the heartbreak spelled out in the lines around his unsmiling mouth, the depth of those blue eyes.

A snort sounded farther up the table. It had come from another one of Ron’s brother, one of the twins. Fred, he thinks.

“No surprise there. You would be sad too if you had lived Arcturus Black’s life.”

Ron leaned in, finally interested in the matter at hand. “What do you mean?” he asked, after swallowing a large chunk of the chicken. “What do you know about his life?”

The twins traded a look, making a show of looking around and over their shoulders in search of eavesdroppers, before answering.

“Well, it’s not really well-known…” Fred began.

“Truthfully, only a handful of people know about it…” George continued.

“But apparently, he used to be a Death Eater.” They finished together.

The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood up. _Death Eater._

He remembered Sirius and Remus sitting him down and telling him the truth behind his past, about his parents and his scar and Voldemort. About the Dark Lord’s followers, ruthless and sadistically cruel witches and wizards who killed and tortured for fun.

Professor Black did not look like one of those monsters. He looked like Mrs. Robinson, who went to the park every Sunday morning to feed the birds like her husband and son used to before they died.

“Would the two of you shut up?” Percy glowered furiously – but quietly – at the twins. “Stop making up absurd stories about our Professors just because you don’t like them!”

The twins looked insulted at the accusation.

“But we do like him!”

“Yeah, Archie’s a pretty good guy once you get past the gloomy exterior.”

Percy choked on his pumpkin juice, probably appalled by the twins’ lack of formality to a figure of authority.

“We’re just saying that he was a Death Eater back in the day.”

“We heard dad talking about it with mum. Did you know that they went to Hogwarts together?”

“Well, not together _together_ , mum and dad were one year ahead, but you get our meaning.”

“Anyway, they said that You-Know-Who himself came to court our dear Professor Black to his side.”

“He offered him everything.”

“Riches.”

“Influence.”

“ _Power_.”

“And when all else failed, he sent Archie’s sister.”

“His sister?” Harry frowned.

For the first time since the conversation began, the twins started to look serious.

“Aye, his twin sister, Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Sitting next to Harry, Ron coughed. “Lestrange?! Are you telling me that she’s Professor Black’s sister?” His friend’s face paled dramatically, making all of his freckles stand out.

George nodded grimly.

“Now, if there was ever a story about twins gone wrong, the Black Twins are definitely it.”

Percy resolved to cut in at that moment. “Now George, you’re exaggerating, I’m sure that, Death Eater business aside, their relationship wasn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be-”

“Percy, there are rumors that she used _a love potion_ on him-”

“And got herself _pregnant_ -”

“That’s enough, both of you!” looking very red-faced now, Percy pointed at them. “I’m a Prefect now, I will start deducing points if you two say another word about that disgusting rumor. Besides, anyone with eyes can see that, apart from a few similarities, which he no doubt inherited from his mother, Aries looks like a Lestrange through and through.”

“Aries?”

Wordlessly, Fred pointed at the Slytherin table, where Harry now could see a tall second-year brunette sitting beside a smug Draco Malfoy, smiling politely at all the other students who were vying for his attention. Even from this distance, Harry could see a flash of ice-blue eyes glancing at the rest of the hall from time to time, as though in search of something.

For some reason, those eyes made Harry twist with something akin to fear. He felt sorry for whoever it was that the owner of these eyes was searching for.

They seemed so… _empty_.

Shivering, and hoping no one noticed it, Harry went back to a conversation that now revolved around the safe topic of Quidditch. Unable to stop himself though, he cast one last look at Professor Black.

Only for emerald green to clash with arctic blue, and Harry swallowed because it felt like he was being evaluated, poked around in search of flaws and-

Professor Black smiled, a small, gentle upturn of lips, and raised his goblet in Harry’s direction, as though toasting him, before turning around to discuss something with Hagrid, who was by now already deep in his cups.

His shoulders slumped. It felt like he had passed some sort of test.

Harry went back to his housemate’s conversation, promising to himself to write a letter to Moony and Padfoot the instant they arrived on their dormitory before going to sleep.

He hoped he had History of Magic tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part II - Hogwarts!  
> (Or, as I like to call it, The One Where Archie Becomes Professor Binns' Worst Nightmare/The One Where Archie Discovers His Sexuality (or rather, his lack of it)
> 
> AKA How I Manage To Write Seven Years Of Magical Education In As Few Chapters As Possible.

**Part II - Hogwarts**

 

_"Tell me, what is it you plan to do_

_with your one wild and precious life?"_

_\- Mary Oliver_  

 

* * *

The start of a tragedy begins not with the great sorrow, but the small choice.

* * *

 

I.

Arcturus Black is eleven years old and he's wearing a talking hat that turns his head to the table draped in yellow and black. He is eleven years old, the reluctant Heir to a great House, and the talking hat is giving him a choice.

(He is giving him a chance to choose himself)

Arcturus Black is at a crossroad; he's in the eye of the hurricane, unable to see what lies beyond the storm.

_You will be great,_ the hat tells him.  _No matter what, you will be great._

_The question is, will you be happy?_

 

* * *

 

II.

_Dear Mr. Black,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list with all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st of July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress._

“Let me see, let me see!”

Archie smiles down at Sirius, the three-year-old clinging to his pants and trying to climb him in to grab the letter. From the other room, without even looking up, Lady Black bellows at her eldest son to stop making a fool of himself. Not surprisingly, it goes unheeded.

“Now, now, Sirius, be patient. You will get your own one day. In about, say, eight years or so…”

The dismayed look on his young cousin’s face would’ve melted the hardest heart. Archie doesn’t stand a chance.

“Alright. But be careful with it!” he warns sternly, ignoring the glare Uncle Orion sends him from behind the Daily Prophet, the one that says _you spoil him too much._

Archie shrugs. Guilty as charged.

(Besides, he has already lost interest in his letter. He is much more concerned with another one, one that says _Mrs. Black_ , instead of _Mr._ )

* * *

 

III.

The world doesn’t slow down when their eyes meet, though it feels like it should. It doesn’t speed up either or suddenly goes silent. Nothing marks this moment as anything special.

And yet it is.

They have traded letters, made supervised fire-calls, laid awake at night thinking only on how cold, how empty, the other side of the bed was.

Their fingers brush each other tentatively. Bella’s skin is warm against his own, and there are no fireworks at the touch, no electricity running up his arm, nothing that makes this moment unique.

And yet.

_I missed you, baby brother._

_I missed you too, big sister._

For two years, Archie has lived in a haze, with this constant feeling of wrongness, every time he turned around and there was no one there at his side. Now, with Bella’s hand on his, he feels like he can breathe again. The emptiness is gone, the hole has been filled, and his twin’s smile chases away the shadows and the cold that has been haunting him so long.

(And he sends his mother a smile, trying to appease the worry behind her blue eyes, and pretends not to notice the way it only makes the concern grow)

* * *

 

IV.

Of the twins, Bella is the first to find her match in Ollivander’s shop.

Walnut, 12 ¾” long, dragon heartstring core. Very unyielding.

That is Bella’s wand. A wand as handsome as it is powerful, as Master Ollivander warily said while they watched the red sparks furiously spring from the tip and twist in the air like living snakes, lighting up his sister’s delighted face.

It takes longer for Archie. He tries willow and walnut, holly and oak wood. He tries unicorn hair, phoenix feather and dragon heartstring. Long wands, short wands, all of them come to Archie at some point or another, and even his parents are beginning to look weary.

That’s when Ollivander, the only one that looks happy by then, gets a peculiar look on his face and returns from the back of the shop carrying a wand made of light wood.

The moment it touches his finger, he knows he has found it.

Cedar wood, 13” inches, phoenix feather core. Reasonably supple.

“I would not care to cross you, Mr. Black,” Ollivander says, now watching both twins instead of just Bella, watching how Archie shies away behind his bolder twin.

(Seeing the way that Bella is half a step in front of him but it’s Archie who hovers just behind, wand in hand and poised to strike at any perceived threat, Bella in the front because his sister has always liked to attack first. It’s not intentional.

And maybe that’s why it’s so frightening.)

_No, I would not care at all_ , Garrick whispers as the Black twins leave his shop, trailing after their parents.

* * *

 

V.

It is night, and the house is asleep but for the two of them.

“We shouldn’t,” Archie says as Bella enters his room.

“Mother won’t like it,” he tries again as she slips inside his bed.

“You know that we won’t be able to do this in Hogwarts, right?” he whispers in her ear when Bella finally settles.

She huffs at him, pointedly wiggling around to make herself cozier. He groans when her elbow digs into his stomach before coughing out a mouthful of Bella’s curls. His sister has grown her hair out.

“I missed you,” she tells him, grey eyes so dark they look black. “Didn’t you miss me?”

He did; he missed her like a wind-starved sail, lonely and adrift on the sea; he avoided mirrors because he could see Bella in his face and his heart ached at the memory of her smile. He missed her like a broken bird misses the sky, like a blinded man missing colors.

He doesn’t say that though. “I promised mother.”

The grin on Bella’s face is a biting, cold thing. More like a baring of teeth than a smile at all.

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

* * *

 

VI.

The train is a bold red behind the billowing of smoke on the station, packed full of families and students saying their tearful farewells.

There are no tears to be found among the Blacks. Such a plebeian gesture is beneath them.

But even Mother can’t help but brush some imagined dust from Archie’s robes before letting the twins board the train.

“Can we go now?” Bella doesn’t whine, but it’s a close thing.

Father is not there, so it’s Uncle Orion who answers her while Aunt Burga spells their trunks to float inside. “Yes, you can go now. I don’t need to remind you to behave yourself at Hogwarts, do I?”

Bella grumbles and nods, impatiently waiting for Archie at the entrance of the wagon. She has seen Rodolphus up ahead, and clearly can’t wait to sit down and catch up with the Lestrange heir.

Archie hesitates. It’s barely noticeable, but Druella Black always had sharp eyes.

Mother’s hands rests on his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.

“There’s no need to worry. I know you will make us proud, Arcturus.”

Archie can only nod, burying his doubts far, far into his heart.

* * *

 

VII.

It’s good to see Rodolphus again. The other boy had grown, almost a whole head taller than the twins now, though he had the grace not to lord it over them. Instead the three get immersed in their future as Hogwarts students, about the classes, the castle, the sheer wonder of finally being able to learn how to wield their magic.

They are joined by other boys and girls they’ve met before during soirees and parties, like the Yaxleys brothers, Nott, Dolohov, Greengrass, their distant Rosier cousin, Evan. All of them purebloods, all of them suitable company and useful acquittances. They come and go, and it’s between those moments where it’s just the three of them that Archie broaches the topic that has been eating away at his mind since he received his letter.

“What House do you think you end up in?”

Both Bella and Rodolphus look at him quizzically.

“Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? We will go to Slytherin, of course.”

_We._ Not _I. We._

_Who ever heard about a Black who wasn’t in Slytherin?_

Archie’s answering smile is as bright as it is fake.

(“ _I know you will make us proud, Arcturus.”_

The Voice, when it comes, almost sounds sympathetic.

_What a terrible burden it is, a loved one’s expectations.)_

* * *

 

VIII.

Archie is in love.

Hogwarts is nothing like he imagined. It’s so much _more_.

(It’s the feeling of the age-old castle opening its arms to welcome new students into its heart, it's the stairs moving up and down, left and right in their excitement at the start of another school year. It’s the air in the hallways humming with light and happiness at being filled with children again, the portraits waving and chatting with anyone with a willing ear and time to spare.

It’s magic in its purest form, and Archie thinks he could get drunk on it.)

The Great Hall is golden and beautiful, and Archie is sure he could spend his whole life staring at the enchanted ceiling above. Bella’s grip on his hand is the only thing that keeps him moving when he would have been perfectly content to just gaze up at the stars. Behind him, he can hear Rodolphus snickering at Archie’s expression of stupefied wonder, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s beautiful, _magic_ is beautiful, and aren’t they blessed to be able to witness it all?

(The Voice it’s almost a tangible presence in his mind, curling up just behind his eyes and pointing out how the flames on the lit candles look like fireflies, how the stone walls seem to melt the higher they go, bleeding into the deep midnight blue of the sky, how bright the stars are tonight, how the clouds look so close, he could reach out and touch…

All those people in the hall, and there are so very few who _see_.

When did the heavens became such a common sight it didn’t evoke the same delight, the same wonder?)

He doesn’t have time to admire the rest though.

“Black, Arcturus!”

* * *

 

IX.

_My, my. Now this is interesting._

Archie has grown up with a voice inside his head. He has lived with it for eleven years; that doesn’t mean he's comfortable with another one poking inside his mind.

_Don’t worry, my young friend. I won’t take permanent residence in here._

“Thank Merlin for small mercies,” he grumbles under his voice, earning a sharp look from the deputy headmistress standing next to him. He shuts up.

_Just say Slytherin_ , Archie pleads inside his head _. Just say Slytherin._

_It doesn’t work that way,_ the Sorting Hat drawled back _. I must first see deep inside you, and then I can tell where you’re meant to be._

_I’m a Black. I know where I’m meant to be._

_(I know you will make us proud, Arcturus)_

The Hat laughs.  _You may think so. I disagree. And since is my opinion that counts…_

Cold sweat started to trickle down Archie’s face. _What do you mean you disagree? I’m a Black. That means I’m a Slytherin._

_Oh, you have traits that Salazar admired, no doubt about that. Your blood is pure, your mind certainly cunning enough, and there's a ruthlessness in you that I've seldom seen in all my years at Hogwarts... But you also have a pathetically low amount of ambition._

_I don’t want to be the Black Heir. So what? That doesn’t mean I don’t have ambition!_

_That might be true, but it doesn’t change the fact that you would be miserable in Slytherin._

_I don’t care. Just put me there._

He couldn’t believe that _not_ wanting to steal his cousin's birthright was now coming back to bite him in the ass.

_Bella did warn me,_ Archie lamented.

_Ah, yes, the lovely Miss Black,_ the Hat sounded smug now, as if he knew something Archie did not. _Your love for your sister is without equal. Such loyalty... There isn't much you wouldn’t do for her, is there, Mister Black?_

_I love my sister._

_Of that there is no doubt. But have you ever thought that you can also love others?_

_I do love others!_ He argued hotly. _I love Andy and Cissa, and Mother, Uncle Orion and Aunt Burga, Sirius and Reggie-!_

_Yes, Mister Black, you love your family. I don’t think you will ever love something more. But your family doesn’t define you._ The Hat’s voice is gentle, persuasive. _It doesn’t need to._

Archie sits on the stool, stupefied. There’s a maelstrom inside of him, fit to burst and he can’t think of anything but his Mother’s words at the train station, Aunt Burga's speeches about upholding the honor of the family, Uncle Orion’s certainty in his success, on Rodolphus’ _we_ instead of _I._

Most of all, he can’t help but imagine Bella’s crestfallen expression, were he to end up in any other House but Slytherin.

* * *

 

X.

Arcturus Black is eleven years old, sitting in front of a crowd of children with a talking hat on his head, telling him he will be great, telling him to choose himself.

_You can choose, you know,_ the Sorting Hat whispers in his mind, despondent, as though it already knows his decision, but it’s still trying to save him from it. _You can always choose._

But really, there was a never a choice at all.

Bella is always at her most beautiful when she smiles at him.

Arcturus Black is eleven, and he chooses.

(He chooses Bella. He will always choose Bella)

( _Oh, you poor, miserable fool.)_


	9. Chapter 9

XI.

For the first day, Archies does what he has always done best.

He sinks into the shadows, becomes part of the background, lets Bella speak up for him because she’s his twin and the words of one are the words of the other.

He listens. He watches. He learns. Archie has always understood the subtleties that sometimes escaped Bella, the politics that so often bored his twin to tears. He understood them but never could find it in himself to enjoy them as his Uncle did.

It doesn’t matter now if he enjoys them or not; he is in the Viper’s Pit. It’s sink or swim from here.

(Archie has always been a strong swimmer)

* * *

 

XII.

This is what you need to know about Slytherin:

They live in the depths of the dungeons, far apart from the other Houses – they live in a shadowy maze of twisting halls and dead-ends, meant to confuse and lose pursues; Hogwarts was built to shelter children from the dangers of a cruel world. Sometimes, such dangers found a way to get inside regardless.

Never let it be said Slytherin did not care about his students' safety.

* * *

 

XIII.

The first thing Archie is taught is how to navigate the dungeons. How to recognize the hallmarks that will lead him to the common room, how to avoid the ways leading to the deepest, darkest pits. He is taught that the shadows are his friends, to be quiet as a mouse, to count the number of turns and footsteps, until he can walk with his eyes closed and not lose his way once

(A pack of older Gryffindors tries to corner him and his twin once. He grabs Bella by the arms and drags her away, and she doesn’t put up a fight, trusting him to have seen that glint in her eyes, to not deny her pound of flesh.

Her belief is rewarded when he leads them right to the mouth of an old block of cells and its easy ( _so easy_ ) to lock the lions inside.

 _Only for a few hours,_ Archie tells her.

 _Of course,_ Bella says. And then proceeds to keep him busy and his mind full for the remainder of the night.

The Gryffindor boys are only found the next day after their screaming attracted a Slytherin Prefect making his rounds. _You owe me, Black,_ the Prefect grumbles as he recounts the story in the common room of how he had to cast memory charms to stop those boys from pointing fingers)

* * *

 

XIV.

This is what their House says about them:

They are grim-faced children decked in green and silver, sons and daughters of proud families, burdened by the weight of untold generations and expectations pressed on their too-small shoulders; surrounded by people who don’t understand the difference between ambition and greed, between cunning and arrogance, people who resent their birth and their success. It’s them against the world.

* * *

 

XV.

For the foreseeable future, until Sirius is old enough to become a viable contention for the title, Archie is the apparent Heir Black. He has the ring on his finger, the training from a Lord, the breeding, and power. From the beginning, there are eyes on him, and Archie learns quickly to differentiate between true friends and sycophants.

That’s how he ends up making acquaintances with Agatha Travers, Edmund Burke, and Nathan Selwyn.

Agatha is a blond, blue-eyed Griffyndor girl who will grow up into a great beauty. The Travers have high positions in the Ministry and as the family's only heiress, Agatha herself plans to one day become the Head of a department. Edmund is a plain-faced, Ravenclaw boy with a prominent nose and connections in Knockturn Alley, a wealth of knowledge on any dark artifact tucked away in his brown eyes. Nathan is a Slytherin like Archie; calm, quiet, unassuming. He has also blackmailed a third year into teaching him all of the castle's shortcuts.

Archie collects the best and brightest of his year, a part of him wanting to sharpen himself against them and let them do the same to him. Diamonds in the rough, using each other to polish themselves.

(The other part just wants to have friends, and the Voice is heartless when it says, _you should have gone to Hufflepuff._ )

* * *

 

XVI.

They receive letters from home.

From Aunt and Uncle, from Mother, all of them pleased with the twins, congratulating them on being Sorted in Slytherin. There is nothing from Cygnus apart than a note in Mother's letter expressing his own pride, but Archie dismisses it. His sperm donor's approval rates low in his list of priorities. Andy writes to both of them, asking about Hogwarts and if they’ve made any new friends. Cissa’s words are at the bottom of the letter, the writing not half as graceful, and Archie makes a mental note of helping her practice her calligraphy when he goes back home.

Sirius and Regulus don’t write, too young to even hold a quill correctly or know their letters, but Sirius, the little scamp, makes sure his father writes about how much he still loves big brother, even if now he's officially a snake.

And something in Archie looses and release, relief at having done right by his family, of having made the correct choice.

 _(For them. Not him_.)

* * *

 

XVII.

Bella has a simultaneously harder and easier time to adapt to their House than Archie.

Harder, because for all his sister can be ambitious enough to aim for the heavens and cunning enough to reach it, she simply doesn’t have the patience for it. Archie sometimes thought that his bold, brave sister would have done well in the lion's den.

Easier, because Slytherins respect nothing quite like they do power. It doesn’t matter in which way it presents itself; monetary, intellectual, political… Slytherins worship strength. And after the curse Bella cast on Delores Parkinson and Wilhemina Nott after the two had the gall to comment on her bed hair…

People learned not to speak ill of Bellatrix Black to her face.

* * *

 

XVIII.

The problem is this; Archie is quiet by nature. So quiet and – seemly – meek that people sometimes forget that he is in the room, or that he and Bella are related at all. And if they do remember, well. He’s so silent. So passive. Just a firstie. What's he's going to do?

They don’t insult Bella to her face. Instead, they begin insulting her behind her back. Around _him_.

(The Voice warns:  _don’t._

A dark, vicious thing inside him hisses _yes._ )

* * *

 

XIX.

They stop talking about Bella. In fact, they stop talking about anything at all and spend a week grunting and squealing in the Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey working on dispelling the damage done to their vocal chords. It's harder than it should be.

( _They were being disrespectful,_ he tells Rodolphus and Nathan when asked that night in the boy's dormitory. _Acting like pigs. So I helped them speak properly._ )

Bella gives him a peck on the cheek the next morning (a little too close to his mouth, and he _told_ her to _stop that_ -), and everyone learns not to mess with the Black Twins.

* * *

 

XX.

This is what you need to know about Slytherin:

There are no enemies inside their House because they’ve already got enough of them outside of it. Any grievances are limited to the common room and dealt with in there. It’s the Prefects teaching first years how to defend themselves against golden lions and soaring eagles and vicious badgers. It’s leaving the safety of the dungeons with no fewer than two people at your back, wand out and ready.

They are serpents, each and every one of them, striving to succeed ( _survive_ ) in a world that would rather see them fail. They are snakes, and there is no shortage of hunters out there, waiting to skin them alive.

 _(You would have been so much happier in Hufflepuff,_ the Voice says, mournful.

Archie watches the way other children shrink away and respectfully avert their gazes from him and Bella and thinks,

_I’m a Black. This suits me fine._

Besides, Bella always said green looked good on him)

This is what you need to know about Slytherin:

_Stay away from the Black Twins._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which being a reincarnated soul and partially-aware of it brings unexpected (and unpleasant) consequences, Archie Black is seen through the eyes of others, and Rodolphus Lestrange might be the only decent friend Archie's got (and even he might have an agenda...)

XXI.

It might be her impulsive Gryffindor nature, but Agatha Travers can’t help but approach Archie Black when she sees him studying in the library, for once with no sight of his sister hovering near.

(But she is there, roaming behind bookcases. Out of sight, but never out of mind; everyone knows the twins are always together.)

Agatha knows everything the pubic knows about Heir Black. More, likely, since she herself is an heiress of an old, respectable family. She knows he is already considered handsome, as the lovestruck girls she is forced to share a dormitory with can attest to, and knows he is something of a prodigy, performing feats of magic and grasping concepts with an ease that makes one wonder how he didn’t end up in Ravenclaw. She knows he is a bit strange, the way all genii are a bit strange – just look at Dumbledore – but she is not off-put by it.

Above all, she learns that he’s dangerous.

(She overheard that trio of Gryffindors before they left to track down their chosen target, never considering that they might turn out to be the prey.)

Gryffindors were always attracted by the promise of danger and adventure. It can be a curse sometimes.

Agatha prefers to view it as an… opportunity.

Life can get so very boring sometimes.

So she sits in front of him, sees the history book he is so engrossed with, and points out that she has one collecting dust in her family’s library that has escaped the Ministry’s censorship and would not be averse to lending it.

Just like that, she has gained a friend for life. One with a very pretty face, she can’t help but notice.

And as the two students start talking, Agatha stares at his mouth, his nose, his cheekbones, even the middle of his forehead. She doesn’t look at his (cold _cold **cold**_ , _there’s something_ wrong _there-_ ) pretty eyes, and tells herself even lions can be wary of slithering things, creeping in the dark.

Especially when one of those things is a gray-eyed girl staring murderously at your back.

* * *

 

XXII.

Edmund Burke grew up spending summers in his grandfather’s antique shop. He has grown up surrounded by greedy and shady men, the kind only found crawling in the cesspit known as Knockturn Alley. He grew up listening to whispers behind shelves packed with Ministry-banned books, to deals made in the dark. He knows the value of secrets, this fluid and dangerous currency worth a rival’s reputation, an enemy’s life. He has cultivated a... hunger for them.

(Knowledge is power, and Edmund has always enjoyed being the smartest person in a room.)

He is used to watching people. Examining their body language, the way their eyes dart away, the split-second expressions flashing through their face during a bargain. He learned to read people like books on his grandfather’s knee, to know when they are lying to you, trying to swindle your fair and good heart.

Arcturus Black is the greatest liar Edmund has ever met.

At first glance, there's nothing different about him. He is a strong, smart, beautiful boy, but still within the acceptable parameters. He is an assortment of actions and reactions expected of a boy his age, and yet… he wavers, sometimes. He tries too hard. A too-long pause, a too-knowing look… sometimes, behind pale blue eyes, Edmund can almost catch a glimpse of _something…_

And then it’s gone, and Archie is just Archie again.

(Only, he was never _just_ Archie, was he?)

Arcturus Black is a maddening puzzle, with half of the pieces missing and the other half refusing to fit.

Edmund might be in love.

(He also might be in danger of losing his mind in the next six years trying to figure out the creature that is Archie Black, but that is a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.)

* * *

 

XXIII.

To be perfectly honest, Nathan Selwyn doesn’t like Archie Black very much.

Oh, he doesn’t have a problem with the boy himself. Archie is a genuinely good fellow to pass the time with, a deft hand in Potions, and the only person in their class able to stay awake during History of Magic, even if it’s only so he can quietly rage at the professor (which, he will admit, is hilarious in its own right).

Merlin, if it wasn’t for the green of his tie, Nathan would’ve thought he was hanging out with a ‘puff. The boy is so damned _nice_.

(Until he isn’t.)

No, Nathan likes Archie well enough. The problem is that there is no _Archie_.

There’s only _Archie-and-Bella_. To speak of one is to speak of the other, like there are no differences between them, like they are a single being split in two, an extension of each other.

It unnerves Nathan, on a fundamental level, watching those two together. There is something eerie about the way they move, like they are each other’s sun, orbiting around the other. A shift here, a move there; a silent, swift look, a corresponding action. Bella's thirsty and her cup is empty, and before she can even say or do anything, Archie is already leaning over the breakfast table and stealing the juice jar from a distracted second year, pouring it in his twin’s glass without even looking. Archie is hunched over his homework, has been for a while, and before he can even get a proper crick in his neck, Bella is hovering over him, hands on his shoulders and smoothing away the discomfort before it can even take hold.

And, okay, maybe it’s a twin thing, and at least they don’t finish each other’s sentence like the Prewett boys, but there is something… something _wrong_ here, and Nathan can’t understand how no one else sees it. The way they carelessly break every rule of conduct by being constantly in touch, as though they can’t get enough of each other; it's Bella leaning over Archie's shoulders to answer a question directed at her brother, it’s Archie’s arm wound through his sister’s to steer her away, Bella’s hand gripping his wrist to drag him closer, the twins walking in sync.

It’s the way even Rodolphus, the pair's confirmed best friend, sometimes watch them warily.

Not for the first time since meeting the Black Twins, Nathan Selwyn thanks Salazar he is an only child.

* * *

 

XXIV.

The first time the Bloody Baron saw the thing masquerading as a Hogwarts student, he stopped floating abruptly in the middle of the hallway, causing a first year to squeal loudly when they walked through him. He stood there, staring unblinkingly at the anomaly, and thought, _wrong._

The child-shaped aberration reeked of death. Even his magic felt touched by it, that chilling presence reaching out and brushing up against him like old friends and bringing the Baron uncomfortable memories of his last few living days to the forefront of his mind.

He watched the thing, watched the cheeks flushed with good health, the spark in its eyes, the spring on its step, the way it looked and interacted with the world around it, and thought, _you shouldn’t be here_.

And yet, there it was, living as thought it had any right to. Oblivious to the shadow of Death clinging to it, poking and prodding, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch it away, back to the pit from whence it came.

The other House ghosts came to him one by one, curious and disturbed by this presence in the castle, unnerved by this being that had, _somehow_ , crawled their way out of the hungry maws of oblivion and wore a child’s body like one would a cloak. The Baron couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that no one (among the living, that is) seemed to suspect that an eldritch horror walked freely among them.

It even had a name. Arcturus Black. Archie, for short.

The Bloody Baron much preferred The Anomaly.

(Samhain was coming up. The veil between this world and the beyond would be at its thinnest. Perhaps the Anomaly would slip away at the stroke of midnight, and the Baron wouldn’t have to worry about its presence in his castle any longer.)

* * *

 

XXV.

Everyone, it seems, agrees on this: Archie Black is an odd boy. Not _bad_ , no, never that, just… just a little strange.

There’s just _something_ behind those eyes that can unsettle anyone who stares at him for too long. Anyone, that is, but his twin. Rodolphus had thought that he could include himself in that list as well.

(He couldn’t.)

It’s in the week before Halloween that it happens.

It’s not the first time Rodolphus has seen Archie lost in his own head. It is the first time he catches him sitting alone, staring at the fireplace in the common room while clawing at the thin skin of his wrist until Rodolphus fears he will scratch himself bloody. He calls to him, tries to shake him awake, pry his fingers away from his wrist, to no vail. The most he gets is a disinterested look throw over a shoulder, enough to freeze Rodolphus in his tracks.

Such a cold, old look on his friend’s face. Ancient, really, and the thought doesn’t seem as ridiculous as it should, not when Arcturus is staring at him like _that_ , like Rodolphus was nothing, less than nothing, like he wasn’t there, wasn’t even _real_ -

Then Bella enters the room, takes one look at Archie, and huffs. “Archie.”

And it’s not fair, really, the way Archie whips his head around so fast, all his attention focused on his sister now, when all Rodolphus got was less than a glance.

Absurdly, he feels like an intruder as he watches Bella take hold of her brother’s hands, tut at the aggravated skin and tighten her grip until Archie flinches and blinks, as if waking from a dream. He looks down.

“Again?” he mumbles, almost too low for Rodolphus to hear.

Bella’s voice is annoyed when she says, “Haven’t I told you to be more careful?”

He hunches his shoulders, head bowed. “Sorry.”

She pets his hair.

“That’s okay. Someone has to take care of you. That’s why I’m here.”

Unnoticed, Rodolphus backs away. He leaves, not quite understanding why that interaction bothered him so much.

* * *

 

XXVI.

Bella stalks the hallways like a jungle cat and eyes passing students as thought choosing which one would be best to test her new hex on. There’s no significant reason for this besides her own desires. She wants to say the words, wave her wand, watch the panic unfold before her and crow at it. Archie prefers a subtler approach, and even then only on those who deserve it.

( _They were being pigs,_ a child says with lidded eyes).

There’s no reason, after all, to let them know what’s coming for them. _Who_ they are dealing with.

No one sees Archie until the knife is already hilt-deep in their unprotected back, and even when they turn around, he will be beaming from the other side of the room, as if to say _who, me?_

And the Voice will sigh and grumble and scold him, but Bella, oh, _Bella_ will smile and laugh and kiss his cheek. The dark thing in his chest will lighten just a touch; just enough for him to feel guilty and promise himself he won’t do it again.

… Archie is not very good with promises.

(And his sister's kisses are ever so sweet.)

On paper, he is the model student. Top of his year, attentive in the classroom, polite and respectful to his elders. When coaxed, has a shy little smile that is most endearing, nothing at all like his sister’s, which is too big, too wild, with far too many teeth.

(Here’s the thing no one sees: behind small, close-lipped smiles-

_Here, see? I have teeth too._

_And they are as sharp as any others._ )

It's been a month since they arrived at Hogwarts, and already they feel right at home.

And then the whispers start.

* * *

 

XXVII.

It began halfway through October.

Maybe it’s because of the approaching Samhain, his first far away from the protective enchantments and blood wards of Black Manor and Grimmauld Place. Maybe it’s the natural, wild magic in the air, so heavy and ancient. Maybe it’s simply that Archie has grown, is growing, and so is the thing inside him, attracting all sort of beings that should have no business staying so close.

Whatever the reason, he… starts seeing things. Hearing voices, and not only the one in his head. He begins to lose time.

He’s having flying lessons, staying close to the ground like always as he watches a group tossing a Quaffle between them and, out of nowhere, thinks _at least that’s not a remembrall._ He blinks, and next thing he knows Madam Hooch is shouting at him to get back down because he is high up in the air, higher than any other student, higher than he has ever gone, and the grace with which he flies is not his own. He is stalked by the Slytherin's Quidditch Team Captain for days before Bella takes matters into her own hands and sends him packing.

He is going up to the Astronomy Tower for lessons and suddenly tugs Bella away from the third-floor corridor ( _to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death-_ ), saying something about an imaginary shortcut and trying to keep the images of a mangled leg and snarling three-headed dogs away. They arrive early, with ten minutes to spare. The problem is that Archie didn’t know any shortcut, but _something_ did, and his legs had simply followed directions. There's a seventh year girl sitting on the parapet and no one can see her but him.

He looks out the window towards the Quidditch pitch, and sees it filled with children’s screams and dementors. He sees red words written on stone walls ( _Enemies of the Heir, beware-_ ) and refuses to go near the Forbidden Forest ( _I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst-_ ). But somehow, he knows the spell ( _Now, repeat with me: Expecto Patonum_ ), knows the place ( _here, I will build it here, and you, my beauty, will sleep down there, beneath the lake, until the time is right-_ ) and all the dangers ( _A herd of centaurs just moved in, can you believe it? As if the wild thestrals weren’t enough, honestly, what is the Headmistress thinking-_ ).

He is leaving the breakfast table one moment, and sitting down in his bed the next, nightclothes on and Rodolphus and Nathan eyeing him worriedly, asking if he’s alright, _you’ve been off all day, Archie._

There are shades following behind him, leaning over his shoulder, whispering secrets and desires in the shell of his ear. The whispers mount and mount until they are shouting, and Archie feels like screaming with them.

He doesn’t say anything to anyone. But Bella never needed words to understand him.

“Make them go away,” he pleads, eyes closed shut to avoid looking at the moving shadows hungrily watching him from the dark. “Please, make them go away.”

“There, there,” she drags him down until his head in on her lap, uses her fingers to brush his hair. “It’s alright. Big sister’s here. I will take care of you.”

He thinks he might be sobbing, and clings to Bella all that much more fiercely.

* * *

 

XXVIII.

He doesn’t dream, or at least can’t remember it when he wakes up, heart pounding in his ears and sweat dotting his forehead despite the unnatural cold permeating the room, with the feeling of someone's fingers lightly wrapped around his throat lingering. He turns on his bed, blinking in the darkness, green sheets twisting under his grasping hands as he searches for familiar hands that will sooth and hold him until he feels ready to face the world again; seeking a body that is not there beside him. Of course she isn’t; she is in the girls dormitory, a place he cannot go, just like she can’t come to him. Even for his wild Bella, slipping into the boys dormitory in the middle of the night isn’t something to be done lightly, and Archie would never ask it of her.

Two years he had spent separated from his twin and thought that was the worst it could get.

The worst, Archie realizes, is having her so near, but not enough.

His bed is too cold and too empty, his mind too full, for him to fall back asleep. And Bella must have known (of course she knows), for she spends the next day adding to the whispers in his ear, giving him bad ideas he would normally have disapproved of but can’t at this moment. Not if it means another harrowing night turning in his bed, with no relief and the constant feeling of being watched.

They cannot go to each other’s beds anymore. But the common room is empty at one in the morning, and the couch in front of the fireplace is so very big for such a small pair of children.

* * *

 

XXIX.

Things come to a head in the night of Halloween.

Hogwarts doesn't celebrate Samhain anymore, hasn't since the time of the Founders. Too many muggleborns, so ignorant they don't even know there is something to celebrate.

(And something to fear.)

Because of that, there is no lavender or sage in the greenhouses Archie can get his hands on, no protective amulet, no adult to conduct a proper ritual, and he doesn't dare request any of these, a lifetime of hiding the things that made him different from the rest rearing its ugly head. Because of that, there is no way to defend himself against the spirits hungry for the taste of life he can provide.

(Is this what being fed on feels like? He never wants to meet a Dementor.)

He is tired all the time and his friends urge him to spend the night in the hospital wing. He laughs humorlessly. Stay alone? Now  _that_ would be even worse.

This is not normal, Archie knows that. Rodolphus's family celebrates Samhain same as his, but the Lestrange heir isn't being stalked by the dearly departed. _Bella_ isn't being haunted. So why him?

( _Don't you see? You are one of them._

_Like calls to like_ )

He thinks he might end up dying ( _you already are-_ ), having the life sucked right out of his body, when his salvation comes out of nowhere.

"What is this?"

The smile Rodolphus gives him is tentative but bright. "I know you haven't been feeling well lately, so I wrote my mother - she's a Rowle, you known, they are famous for their affinity with Ancient Runes - and she sent me instructions on how to make a protective rune. Since I'm a beginner, I had to make do with some tree bark from the forest, though it's supposed to be carved on stone for durability, or better yet, inked on the skin... Anyway, the rune I carved there is _Elhaz_ , which will offer you blessing and protection. Or at least I think so. You can put a cord on it and use as a necklace or just carry around in your pocket or something..." he trails off, suddenly fascinated by the sight of his shoes.

The wood is rough on his hand, the edges not properly smoothed over, and the marking is crude, clearly made by an unexperienced hand. But he can feel the magic imbued in it, _Rodolphus's magic_ , the pure intent to _protectprotectprotect_ and Archie's throat is dry. His eyes sting. Besides him, Bella briefly inspects the pendant before nodding in acceptance, giving her approval.

"Thank you, Roddy."

And as his friend's cheeks redden and Archie slips the gift inside his pocket, he can already feel the clamoring spirits draw away.

* * *

 

XXX.

The moon rises and sets. Hogwarts's Halloween feast is a success with the student body and even Archie manages to enjoy himself a bit, though it still feels wrong to not sit in a circle with his relatives and offer their dead their greetings and respect. His new pendant does its job of keeping the more aggressive spirits away admirably, and at the stroke of midnight, the tenseness in Archie’s shoulders lessen. His ears stop ringing. The cold seems to slip away, bit by bit, and, eventually, the sleepless nights stop. The errant thoughts and visions quieten until they are gone completely.

(But not the Voice. That stays with him, always there in the back of his eyes, a shadow curled up inside his chest, beneath his heart. A silent spectator, until it bores of it and starts rebuking him instead, despairing of him and Bella.)

The House ghosts that had been haunting his steps for days lose interest and float away. The shades of long-gone souls, seeing their window of opportunity closed, resigned themselves to wait for the next year.

And Archie curls up in his own bed, his roommates snoring around him, telling himself that no, he has no need, he _won't_ -

He sighs and leaves the dorm, going down to the common room. To the couch in front of the fireplace. To Bella, who is already waiting impatiently, resolutely trying not to think of what his mother would say if she could see them now.

And hanging from his neck by a black string, a wood pendant.


End file.
